Patience isn't the only Virtue
by MegMarch1880
Summary: Dealing with Sherlock takes patience. Lots of patience. Molly doesn't know how much more patience she can give him.


**A/N: This story popped into my head. It's set at the end of the Final Problem but before the ending montage. The quotation in the story is 1 Corinthians 13:4-7 from the English Standard Version of the Bible.**

* * *

She had loved him since the beginning. But he was in some ways so much still the stereotypical guy. She knew he would hate to be thought of in that way. But it was true. In some ways, he acted like any other guy. Just because he had the mental capacity to remember when her birthday was, what she'd said, or what her favorites were, didn't mean that he _did_ remember these things. His mind palace had them stored somewhere, she was sure. Unless he had deleted all of that. He wasn't the best at listening even if his brain could multi-task. He was afraid of commitment and connections with people because of what he had been through.

Yet she still loved him. Yes, Sherlock could be a bit of an idiot at times. Even if he was also the smartest guy in the room. But she also had found out that she was special to him in some ways at least. He trusted her with things that he didn't even tell his best friend about. People, who an outsider would say were much closer to him, didn't know the things that she did. So she kept that in her heart and treasured that for the moments when he was an idiot and said such horrible things. Like deducing her in front of all of his closest friends and her co-workers. Or asking her to say "I love you," over the phone for either an experiment or case. She would just pull herself back together with the reminder that he had turned to her for help in faking his death. That she loved him for who he was which sometimes meant pain.

After all, "Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things." The pillow her mother had given her with this embroidered on it had received several beatings, been thrown, and cried on quite a bit from its place of honor on her bed.

She definitely felt like she had endured all sorts of things because of loving Sherlock. There would be those moments when she'd finally strike out over Sherlock going too far. Looking once again at him deducing her in front of friends and coworkers or going on drugs again for some case. She'd finally have enough and speak up. And she could see it in his eyes, that he hadn't meant to cause her pain. And he'd apologized with a kiss on the cheek or not retaliating about being slapped twice in the face. Other than deducing her emotions though to be fair, the second slap she'd given him may not have been necessary . . . But what haunted her was the look in his eyes.

The look in his eyes that said he didn't mean to hurt her. After all, he had in no way tried to make her fall in love with him. She liked to imagine that his eyes were begging her to be patient. That if given enough time that he'd be able to love her someday. She also knew that only happened in fairy tales and she was definitely not in one. But she didn't try to get over him either. The two times she had tried had been Jim Moriarty and Tom. For the safety of the English public if nothing else, it was much safer if she continued to be patient in her love for Sherlock than try to get over him again. Sherlock had had to fake his death, Mary had actually died. It seemed to be very true that she had a type.

So she carried on loving a man who most likely at most considered her an asset to his work who wouldn't betray him and was on his side. She supposed it was an improvement over how she thought he had viewed her at first. And he had improved, he had taken her on cases with him. He would never be normal but clearly, she wasn't attracted to normal. She glanced at the clock. It had been an hour since Sherlock had called her.

She didn't regret making him say it first. She knew that it would make a mess of her emotions even more so later when she actually thought about what he had said and that she had actually said it out loud to him. She went back to looking out the window wondering _why_ Sherlock had needed her to say it so badly. Despite the accusations she had levied at him, she knew he wasn't doing it for no reason. Even he knew it was illogical to make mad the person who enabled most of his experiments and provided him with body parts. She knew it had to be for a case, but why did she need to say those three words? She could see him calling her and faking a relationship with her for a case but that didn't necessitate her saying anything like that. She knew that there was little point in wondering, though. Either Sherlock would tell her, to get back into her good graces, since she planned on withholding experiments and body parts till she got a good explanation for this behavior or Sherlock would refuse and she'd find out from John's blog.

Later she would be horrified when Sherlock told her what had happened. She would feel even worse for making Sherlock say that when she heard, even more, detail from John. Sherlock had glossed over the "I love you" part. He told her more about Eurus. When John told her what Sherlock had gone through before and during that moment, she had cried on his behalf. His world had been rearranged so many times that night. For Sherlock that was a hard thing to deal with. He had thought that she was going to die and she had been all sorts of frustrated with him and not cooperative. Perhaps she had been so focused on being patient with Sherlock she had forgotten to be kind and not resentful. She had assumed he was doing this to be mean when all he wanted was her safe. John had also told her what was in the coffin. Those who remain generally pick what's written on the coffin. She knew what Eurus was suggesting.

Patience and kindness are hard to maintain in a soft heart. The world works hard to make you turn bitter and harden your heart. So a small apology might be in order for Sherlock. Now, what experiments had he mentioned that he had wanted to do recently . . .


End file.
